


wise men say

by hearteyesfordays



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Unofficial marriage, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 17:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20343652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearteyesfordays/pseuds/hearteyesfordays
Summary: He's feeling brave tonight. Maybe it's the tub juice.An alternate take on Epikegster 2014.





	wise men say

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Can't Help Falling in Love” originally by Elvis, covered by countless others.

Jack doesn't drink much these days, but when Holster presses a cup full of Shitty's special blend into his hand, Jack takes a cautious sip. This is almost certainly the last Haus kegster he'll be subjected to before graduation. He might as well try to enjoy it. He'd have a hard time ignoring it in his room, anyway; the music's so loud it's probably rattling the windows.

So he tries. He drinks his tub juice, and teams up with Lardo to destroy Ransom and Holster at flip cup, and does his best to make sure no one sets fire to the Haus.

He's talking to Bittle when he feels it, an electric prickle at the back of his neck. At first he's sure that his mind's playing tricks on him. He's having fun at a party; ergo, Parse must be present. Which is clearly not the case.

Except when Jack turns his head, there he is.

“Hey, Zimms,” Parse says over the thumping bass of whatever club song Ransom had queued up. “Didja miss me?”

What a question. 

Jack can't get his mouth to work. Not that he'd want to say anything here, with people swarming around Parse, begging for autographs or selfies or his phone number. The crowd parts for a brief instant, then swallows him up again. Jack pushes forward into the fray. 

He waits while Parse deals with his most persistent fans, then hustles him up the stairs before they attract any more attention.

“You look good,” Parse says quietly, while Jack locks his door behind them. 

Jack tries not to think too hard about what he could mean by that. Being around Parse always messes with his head. Makes him think impossible things. It's work to wrench his eyes away from Parse's face, from the line of his shoulders spanning Jack's doorframe.

Parse can't just spring himself on Jack like this. Jack's not prepared.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. 

Parse leans back against the door. “We play Boston tomorrow. Figured it was worth a shot to take a drive down here.” 

“For any reason in particular?”

“Yeah,” Parse smirks, “I was hoping you had some advice on how to beat Rask. High stick side, or what?”

Jack gives him a look.

Parse huffs out a breath. “Why do you think, Zimms? I wanted to see you.” He tugs lightly at the hem of Jack's tee. Jack doesn't stop him.

Parse presses his lips into a flat line before he looks up at Jack again. “You're graduating soon. You probably have offers coming out of your ears, but my GM says there's a spot on our roster with your name on it. If you want.”

“Why would he do that?” Jack's never even spoken to the Aces' GM. 

“Bill's a smart guy.” The corner of Parse's mouth quirks upward. It brings out the dimple in his left cheek. “He knows it's in his best interest to go after what I want.”

“Why do you want that?” Jack presses, instead of deflecting the way he usually would. He's feeling brave tonight. Maybe it's the tub juice.

Parse laughs, but not like anything's funny. “Lots of reasons.” He takes his hat off and puts it back on, because he thinks if he does it often enough, his cowlick won't have a chance to poke through the hole at his forehead. He's wrong. “No one else can handle my passes. Swoops complains that they're too hard, can you believe that? As if I don't have _hella_ silky mitts.” 

“At least it's not hurting your confidence,” Jack deadpans.

Parse grins at him. “That's another thing. My head gets too big without you chirping me. Someone needs to cut my ego down to size.”

“I find it hard to believe that you don't have ten guys lining up to do that already.”

“Okay, point,” Parse admits. “But it's not the same. You're my best friend, did you know that?” He looks down at the floor, working his jaw. “I know it's been—but you still are. 

“This isn't some kind of trick. Do I want you on my team? Yes. _Obviously_. But it's not because you're good. There's other good players. It's because you're you.” 

“Kenny.” Jack doesn't know what to say. This is starting to edge into dangerous territory, the part of the evening when Parse looks to him for answers that Jack's afraid to give.

Parse keeps going. “You're the one I want to talk to when something good happens. When something bad happens. All the time.” His mouth twists. “I'm in love with you. I know it's not what you want to hear, but—”

The bottom drops out of Jack's stomach. Parse loves him. _Parse loves him?_ He's still talking. “Since when?” Jack interrupts.

Parse frowns. “Since always?”

He stops breathing. That's not possible. Kenny never—Jack was the one who—“You never said.”

“I didn't know I had to. Felt pretty obvious from where I was standing.”

It hadn't been. Jack's hands are shaking. “Say it again.”

Parse looks at him, confused. “I love you.”

Jack takes a step toward him. Then another.

Parse gets a look in his eye that makes Jack's heart hammer in his chest. “I love you,” he says again, his hint of a smile getting brighter every second. “Zimms, I'm in love w—”

Jack catches the rest of his words with his mouth.

Parse leaps at him. Jack gets a hand under his ass and maneuvers them toward his bed. It takes some doing before he finally manages. Every time Jack pulls away to breathe, Parse starts talking again, and Jack has to kiss him some more. It feels surreal, like he's slipped into someone else's life. Maybe the life he was meant to be living.

“I didn't know,” Jack tells him, quite a bit later. The Haus has gone quiet beneath them. “How did I not know? I must be stupid.”

“I guess so,” Parse agrees, a big, soft smile taking over his face. He skims his hand over Jack's cheek. Jack leans into it. “Not to get greedy,” Parse says, “but do you have anything to say to me?”

Jack looks down at him, at his cowlick and freckles, at his big grey-green-blue eyes that make Jack's stomach do flips. There are so many things he should say. That he's missed Parse like air, with a physical ache that's only ever gotten stronger. That everything Parse said is true for him, too. He doesn't know where to start. He wants to tell Parse everything.

“Marry me,” he blurts without thinking, but after it's out he realizes he means it. Jack's done feeling uncertain. Parse loves him. He wants to know that they're _theirs_, that this is it, the two of them, forever.

Parse goes still. “It's really all or nothing with you, isn't it,” he says, more to himself than to Jack. He's not upset, Jack's almost certain.

Jack nudges his face into Parse's neck. “Well?”

“You're stupid, not crazy, remember?” Parse says, but he throws his arms around Jack and kisses him until Jack's lungs are on fire. Jack lets himself get lost in the feeling of Parse's mouth against his, the heat of his body underneath him.

“We can't,” Parse tells him, when they finally break apart. His eyebrows pinch together as he takes in Jack's reaction. “You know we can't.”

Jack drops his head. Parse is right. Getting married would be insane. It would blow up their careers, Jack knows that. He just wants.

“But,” Parse cuts through his reverie, “I'll promise you whatever you want. Right here, right now.”

Jack pulls back so he can see Parse's face. He looks as serious as Jack's ever seen him. “Really?”

“Of course,” Parse says, like it's not even a question, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

“Hang on.” Jack dives for his phone. 

“Oh my god, Zimms, are you seriously looking up vows?” Parse groans and throws an arm over his face. It doesn't hide his grin. Or the flush creeping down his neck.

“Yes,” Jack replies. If they're going to do this, they're going to do it right.

“You're such a dweeb.”

“Takes one to know one,” Jack says absently, his focus on the words he's typing into his phone. 

Parse starts giggling. “Are we really doing this?”

“Just give me a second.” Jack races through his search results, looking for the most official version, the one that will make this real. He needs it to be real. “Okay. Um.” He clears his throat. “Do you take me to be your husband, to love and to cherish, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part?”

Parse smiles up at him. “Always.”

Jack swallows. “Even when I make it hard to?”

“Every day, for the rest of my life. I'm not going anywhere, Zimms.” The words settle into Jack's chest and make themselves at home, warming him from the inside.

“Your turn,” Jack whispers.

Parse nods with a shuddering breath. His eyes, when he opens them, are deep green and glassy. He presses his palm against Jack's bare chest, over his heart. “Promise me that you're mine and I'm yours, no matter what.”

Jack puts his hand over Parse's, presses it harder into his own chest, so Parse can feel his heart beating. 

“Kenny,” he says with all the conviction in him, “I'm yours and you're mine, no matter what. We belong to each other, I swear it.” He takes a breath. “I love you.” 

Parse's fingers tremble underneath his. “Jack—”

“So much. You don't know how much.”

“I do,” Parse insists. “I do, I—”

Jack kisses him.

They lie with their faces close together, Parse's head on Jack's pillow. 

“I think we just got married,” Jack says. It's still soaking in, the way his life has just changed forever.

Parse's smile widens. “I think you're right.” He studies Jack's face. “Was it everything you hoped for?” He pitches his voice like it's a joke. Jack knows it's not.

He shakes his head at Parse, at his husband. His heart won't fit in his chest. “More.”

Parse scrunches his nose. “Gross.”

Jack shrugs, completely unbothered. “You married me.”

“Yeah, I did.” Parse pulls him in for another kiss. Jack doesn't pull away.

Parse stays in bed with him until the absolute last minute, then rolls out and throws on his clothes from the night before. They're expensive enough that he can pull off the intentionally rumpled look, and his hat covers up his bedhead, but there isn't much they can do about the hickeys. Jack tries not to show how pleased he is about that. Parse takes one look at him and climbs back onto the bed, so he probably wasn't all that successful. 

“When do I get to see you again?” Parse murmurs between kisses.

“What are you doing after the game?”

Parse groans. “Flying to Ottawa.”

“I'll call you,” they both say together. Winter break is coming up. Jack will figure something out.

“Okay,” Parse laughs, “I really have to go now. You're thinking about that offer, right?”

“No promises.” Jack plays with Parse's fingers. Maybe they could get rings, if they were low-key.

“It's a little late for that, don't you think?”

Jack shrugs. “That was just marriage. This is my career. There's a lot to consider,” he lies, as if he wouldn't follow Parse to any garbage fire in the league, now that he knows what he has. They could fix it together.

“I guess I'll have to step it up,” Parse says.

“You do that.”

“Can't believe the honeymoon's over already.”

Jack's face hurts from smiling. “Shut up and go win me a game.”

Parse snaps off a salute on his way out the door.

The Aces trounce the Bruins, courtesy of a lights-out performance from their superstar left wing. They really are a great team, Jack thinks to himself. He'll love playing there.


End file.
